his is such a capital night for a story, papa," said Robert Lincoln to his father, who had laid away his newspaper and seemed inclined to take an extra forty winks. "Indeed, Robert," said Mr. Lincoln, smiling, "I wonder if you would ever tire of hearing stories. I don't think I have one left; you and Lily have managed to exhaust my store." "O papa, please don't say... more...

LESSON XXXV. fin'ished bon'net les'son saved white a way' I've am work scam'per read'y gar'den [Illustration: White kitten lapping milk from a bowl.] THE WHITE KITTEN. [Illustration: Script Exercise: Kitty, my pretty, white kitty.   Why do you scamper away?I've finished my work and my lesson   And now I am ready for play. Come, kitty, my own little... more...

INTRODUCTION The Theatre, by "Sir John Falstaffe", is according to its author a continuation of Richard Steele's periodical of the same name. Shortly after Steele brought his paper to a close on April 5, 1720, the anonymous author who called himself "Falstaffe" appropriated his title; or if we prefer Falstaffe's own account of the matter, he was bequeathed the title upon the... more...

CHAPTER ITHE GLOW-WORM Few insects in our climes vie in popular fame with the Glow-worm, that curious little animal which, to celebrate the little joys of life, kindles a beacon at its tail-end. Who does not know it, at least by name? Who has not seen it roam amid the grass, like a spark fallen from the moon at its full? The Greeks of old called it [Greek: lampouris], meaning, the bright-tailed.... more...

COLUMBINE: Pierrot, a macaroon! I cannot live without a macaroon! PIERROT: My only love, You are so intense! . . . Is it Tuesday, Columbine?— I'll kiss you if it's Tuesday. COLUMBINE: It is Wednesday, If you must know . . . . Is this my artichoke, Or yours? PIERROT: Ah, Columbine,—as if it mattered! Wednesday . . . . Will it be Tuesday, then, to-morrow, By any chance? COLUMBINE: To-morrow... more...

I. After the death of Judge Kilburn his daughter came back to America. They had been eleven winters in Rome, always meaning to return, but staying on from year to year, as people do who have nothing definite to call them home. Toward the last Miss Kilburn tacitly gave up the expectation of getting her father away, though they both continued to say that they were going to take passage as soon as the... more...

The Ability to communicate ideas from one individual to another," said a professor of sociology to his class, "is the principal distinction between human beings and their brute forbears. The increase and refinement of this ability to communicate is an index of the degree of civilization of a people. The more civilized a people, the more perfect their ability to communicate, especially under... more...

CHAPTER I. RUPERT'S LECTURES—THE OLD YELLOW LEATHER BOOK. We were very happy—I, Rupert, Henrietta, and Baby Cecil. The only thing we found fault with in our lives was that there were so few events in them. It was particularly provoking, because we were so well prepared for events—any events. Rupert prepared us. He had found a fat old book in the garret, bound in yellow leather, at the end of... more...

WhenBetsinda held the RoseAnd the Ring decked Giglio’s fingerThackeray! ’twas sport to lingerWith thy wise, gay-hearted prose.Books were merry, goodness knows!When Betsinda held the Rose.Who but foggy drudglings dozeWhile Rob Gilpin toasts thy witches,While the Ghost waylays thy breeches,Ingoldsby? Such tales as thoseExorcised our peevish woesWhen Betsinda held the Rose.Realism, thou specious... more...

We have our prejudices in England.  Or, if that assertion offends any of my readers, I will modify it: we have had our prejudices in England.  We have tortured Jews; we have burnt Catholics and Protestants, to say nothing of a few witches and wizards.  We have satirized Puritans, and we have dressed-up Guys.  But, after all, I do not think we have been so bad as our Continental friends.  To be... more...